<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Hooked by Spoonzi</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23050489">Hooked</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoonzi/pseuds/Spoonzi'>Spoonzi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Biting, Briefly Hurt Jaskier, Fingering, M/M, Merperson Anatomy, Merperson Genitalia, Merperson Jaskier, Smut, merman Jaskier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:01:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,139</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23050489</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoonzi/pseuds/Spoonzi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He should question how a merperson chained and hooked to the shallow riverbanks within a dingy, poor excuse for a forest knows who he is. Sadly all the Witcher can voice is, “You speak English?”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <em>The mer gives him a droll look. “Well I can’t expect all of you land dwellers to know the language of the water, now can I?”</em></p>
<p>🧜♂️</p>
<p>A.K.A. The Merman Jaskier AU that someone actually asked for.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Mentioned Geralt/Yennefer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>699</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Witcher - Various Alternate Universes</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hooked</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rodimus_Of_Nyon/gifts">Rodimus_Of_Nyon</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you to my awesome beta <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dalidarling">Dali</a>!!!</p>
<p>Come and make some friends in the <a href="https://discord.gg/ub8rq6N">Geralt’s Dumpster Fire Discord</a> where the idea for this fic came to fruition.</p>
<p>The amazing <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/happybluemo/pseuds/happybluemo">happybluemo</a> did some beautiful art of <a href="https://photos.app.goo.gl/9aVNnJuuFRYXxCt77">Mermaid Jaskier</a>!!!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <a href="https://www.ultimatehotspringsguide.com/uploads/1/0/5/4/105466343/p1132.png">Jaskier’s Cave Visual Aid</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Geralt is, in all iterations of the word, exhausted. He’s been traveling for days with little rest. He’d given the last of his travel mix to Roach, bless her magnificent soul. There’s also a jawsized chunk torn out of his arm, not his sword arm thankfully, from his unfortunate run in with a few too many ghouls too close together. Over all, he really wishes he were closer to an inn because he could use an easy meal as well as a bed and bath about now.<br/>
</span>
</p>
<p>Slathering healing ointment on the glorified hole in his bicep, he approaches the riverbank shirt in hand in hopes of cleaning it enough to salvage it. The Witcher kneels next to the murky water and dunks the dark fabric in watching as the first traces of copper and ichor plume into the water and drift away before he begins to rub his hands against the fabric to work more out. A whistle startled him and he flees his pupils narrow as he looks up to glare around the narrow clearing. “That’s a nasty wound you have there.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes stick on a merperson lounging on the other side of the riverbank and he pauses. It’s not that he’s never seen one, it’s just the ones that he has seen were few and held in captivity making their eyes dead, their coloring dull, and their will to communicate left to gnashing teeth and clawing at their too small tanks. This mer is much different than those. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s more human features are alike to a young man. His hair is cut shorter than most mers that Geralt had seen but it’s also dry, the brown strands sweeping across his forehead and curling around his ears where they lay close to his head in bluish purple webbing that stretches between three long flesh colored spikes of cartilage. He’s got luminous cornflower blue eyes that crinkle at the edges with his smile which reveals three sets of canines along his top row of teeth and two sets along the bottom, all impossibly sharp and wicked looking among the innocence of the creature’s face. Scales in the same light blue-violet color of the webbing of his ears trace over his temples and cheekbones all the way down to his jaw ending just before the three fluttering pinkish-blue toned slashes on either side of his throat that must be his gills. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His chest is covered in thin and even brown hair matching to that on his head and his lower half is obscured by a pure silver chain lashing around his considerably long tail. The chain leaves burning deep red marks that would heal fairly quickly if removed but it’s stuck around the mer by a large hook biting through the powerful limb completely near the middle of its length coating the pretty scales in blood darker than that of a humans. High up on the sides of his waist starts brilliant violet fins that come down over the sides of his hip bones all the way to near the middle of his tail just above the hook. They are wispy and beautiful akin to the decorative ‘beta’ fish Yen had kept in a small tank in one of her many hideaways. Similar fins trace the outsides of his forearms ending just over the ball of his wrist under thinly clawed yet elegant slightly webbed hands, one of which is cradled closer than the other near where his breeding parts should be. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The mer’s tail starts out a vibrant cornflower blue in partner to his glowing eyes and the scales get ever so slightly darker until they end deep black at the foot of his tail all of them sheening almost rainbow in the light where the too dark blood isn’t coating them. The fin at the bottom of his tail starts higher on the right side nearly a foot away from where the other had ended while on the left it starts much lower. Like the others the fins seem almost like delicate and expensive fabric colored a riveting violet but this fin is much longer than the others and has several light blues and reds mixed in. Seeing this mercreature, Geralt finally understands how merchants and pirates are lured to their deaths by the creatures. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ooo, fun!” The mer grins sunnily when his luminescent blue eyes catch on the gold of the man’s. “White hair, broodish scowl, two very very scary-looking swords. I know who you are. You're the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He should question how a merperson chained and hooked to the shallow riverbanks within a dingy, poor excuse for a forest knows who he is. Sadly all the Witcher can voice is, “You speak English?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The mer gives him a droll look. “Well I can’t expect all of you land dwellers to know the language of the water, now can I?” The creature has a point so the white haired man lets out an answering grunt which seems to be enough since the blue eyed individual continues. “So, big bad Witcher, are you going to kill me?” He questions but the smell of fear doesn’t permeate the air— though that could be due to all of the blood, both Geralt’s and the mer’s. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He shakes his head ever so slightly at the younger looking male. The mer shifts sighing in relief and winces as the thick silver chain rubs higher around his waist leaving burning red marks and pulls his fins the opposite way tearing the delicate extremities. At the sight, it shocks Geralt into action. Yanking his hands and the tunic out of the water, he rings it out as well as he can and tucks the end into his pants before making his way across the shallow bank. When he gets closer he can tell that if the creature had the ability to stand, with the length of its tail, it would be taller than he. Kneeling next to the mer, Geralt begins to carefully unknot the thick chain from around the foot of his powerful tail so that he can find the end and unwrap it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t expect it.” The mer confides and now that the Witcher is closer he can see that the hand curled closer to his body isn’t to cover the two barely noticeable thin slits over his pelvic bone, but because the skin of his palm has been brutally burned and flayed almost down to the bone from trying to get the chains off. It’s healing but slowly and most likely painfully considering the muscle and ligaments are trying to rebuild themselves, the hand will be fine but it will most likely have scarrage due to how deep the wound is. “The humans on the coast love me. I watch their young, play them songs, and some even visit me regularly from other places...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The mer pauses wincing as the chain shifts tightening in some places while loosening in others. “The storm washed me up this river and I woke on the bank to a man shoving me in chains and hooking my tail.” The creature narrates like it’s a story you tell children or a play you perform to the masses. “I mauled his arm with my nails to get him off of me and when he reached up to hit me I bit two of his fingers clean off!” He says triumphantly and Geralt has to work at forcing down his smile. “Fortunately for him, I’ve never liked the taste of humans much. I prefer jellyfish or crustaceans.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The brunet’s eyes go a bit wide when the Witcher easily lifts his heavy tail out of the shallow water carefully avoiding disturbing the beautiful fins so that he can unwrap the loops of chain. “I thought he sent you to finish me off at first, before I noticed you were a little worse for wear yourself.” The mer explains shakily lifting his injured hand so the Witcher can unravel the chain from around his waist. It only leaves the hook imbedded among his scales and now that he’s seen the underside of the tail, Geralt can confirm it’s completely run through. Both of them look at the large silver hook for a long moment before the creature straightens his shoulders and clenches his uninjured hand. “Just do it. We both know it’s going to hurt. Better to just get it over with.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The hunter is vaguely impressed by the creature’s bravery as he reaches forward and wraps his hand around the end of the hook. He torques his wrist and pulls the silver instrument out as cleanly as he can eyes going from the creature’s battered tail to his face as he wails a loud shrill sound. Another row of teeth, all sharp as needles this time, tears out from the roof of his mouth just behind the first covered in his own blood. The whites of his eyes are now an inky, angry black and the blue positively glows around pupils that are now tiny from the pain. The mer snarls baring his teeth more at the hook than Geralt and his once lax ears flare out like a startled animal raising its hackles at a threat. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As fast as the predator had flowed out of the mer, it drifted away even faster. Eyes retiring to normal slightly glowing cornflower blue, fins settling, and teeth being neatly tucked back under the skin at the roof of his mouth; the mer shivers carefully lifting and moving his tail to test the powerful muscles. Finally, he looks back to the white haired man. “Thank you, my friend. You may call me Jaskier.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not your friend.” Geralt grouses moving to the water next to the end of the mer’s tail to rinse the blood of the hook and chain. It could be useful. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, in any case, if you’re ever near the coast, pay me a visit.” The mer, Jaskier evidently, comments lightheartedly from just outside of Geralt’s field of view. Quick as lightning and with a splash, the other male is gone leaving only ripples in the deeper side of the water as his goodbye. The Witcher doesn’t expect to ever see the creature again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>——————</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Weeks later, the white haired man gets a Wraith contract from a wealthy landowner who begins the conversation with ‘you are the Witcher from the song right?’. Frankly, Geralt has no clue what he’s talking about but he has the sinking feeling that it has something to do with the mercreature from the lake. Fuck. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>——————</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The first time Geralt hears the song, he finds many things wrong with it. For one, even though he’s never heard the mer sing it sounds wrong coming from someone else’s lips. For two, it’s wildly incorrect and disrespectful and he remembers the true happenings from when he rescued a countess from a small tribe of elves and a man who seemed startlingly goat-like. He figures one of Jaskier’s ‘visitors’ told the creature about it probably not remembering that Geralt had talked the Elves down and offered them his own coin pouch instead. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>——————</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt doesn’t expect to go near the coast. He actually fully intends to avoid it now knowing an annoyance of a mer Bard lives there. Unfortunately, life doesn’t always work out right for Geralt and he finds himself taking a job on the coast anyway because Yennefer had asked it of him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One day he’ll escape the clasp of his unfortunate feelings for her, he feels as if he almost has. After he gets the job done, a Gollum of course because she can’t make things easy for him, he might just put real effort into staying away from her for a while. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>——————</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Witcher makes his way to the beach after collecting his reward from the alderman, a skinny man with a hawkish nose who is allegedly friends with Yennefer, who told him there is an inn and tavern on the beach. There are people on the beach but so long as they ignore him then he and Roach can get to the inn and he can take a nice long bath, eat some food, and promptly sleep for two days. Sadly, it seems his presence is not to be ignored. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Geralt!” A familiar voice cheers and unfortunately his first instinct is to turn and look instead of continuing his trek towards the inn and tavern. On a large, flat rock sits Jaskier his body framed by the pink and orange shades of the sunset as he waves Geralt over— it doesn’t escape the Witcher that as he walks closer the people around the mer jump to leave their presence. He’s got most of his tail hanging off the rock into the water his waist and hips covered by a beautiful golden sash. A patch of his scales seem thinner though as well as skin colored, the spot where the hook had been imbedded undoubtedly. A lute sits in his hands but is quickly stowed in an interesting looking chest next to the flat rock with Jaskier’s name painted on the front. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At his curious look, the creature explains. “A few of the townspeople made it for me to keep things here on land that can’t get wet.” He says with an indulgent looking smile as he begins to unknot the pretty sash from around his waist. He folds it and sets it on top of several other expensive looking sashes and cloths. “Did you hear the song I made of you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt grunts and lets go of Roach’s reigns so that he can cross his arms though it strains the muscles he pulled while fighting the Gollum. “It didn’t happen like that. The song was disrespectful.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The mer looks up at him once the chest is closed and the top is secured. His eyes portray something the Witcher can’t quite understand and his youthful face looks almost serious. “Respect doesn’t make history.” He says and the white haired man doesn’t know how to respond to that so he grunts. In return, Jaskier rolls his eyes at the man turning on his rock to face the sun as it sets over the softly rolling waves. He pats the rock next to him not looking away from the purple-red sky and he doesn’t speak again until Geralt is on the rock next to him. “So, why are you at the coast?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Job. Gollum.” The Witcher says and the mer must understand because he nods. For some reason the yellow-eyed man continues though and it should bother him that Jaskier makes him talk so much because he only ever talks this much out of necessity or with Yennefer. “I may search out some Drowner nests after I rest. I need some brains for a few potions.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The mer hums and the larger male watches his beautiful multicolored tail fin drift through the water as the creature moves leaning forward on the rock his slightly webbed hands braced on the hands service. “You may be out of luck on that front, my friend.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not your friend.” Geralt insists on instinct only garnering a look from the brunet that says ‘obviously you are, dumbass’ before he continues. “Why not?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re quite tasty.” Jaskier shrugs and suddenly the white haired man gets a flash of black filled eyes, sharp teeth and claws, and fins flared out and ready for a fight. “I’m unsure of how long Drowner Brains last but there are probably a few bodies around my home if you’d like to scavenge them.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The hunter ends up speaking up without thinking once again and he wonders why he is only like this with Yennefer and now Jaskier. “Is this supposed to be some kind of trick to get me to go home with you?” He questions, and really what kind of home can he count on a mercreature to have?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The bard finally looks at him and it takes Geralt's breath away a little bit. His hair is wind tousled and dry framing his face and the setting sun’s last light makes Jaskier’s skin look like cream woven silk. He smiles a sharp, deadly smile at the Witcher and his luminous, blue eyes crinkle at the edges. Breathtaking. The mer tilts his head. “Would I really have to trick you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No, Geralt thinks without a second to deliberate. Somehow in meeting this stunning creature only twice he’s already hooked on that fanged smile and those light pools of eyes. “No.” Geralt says and he wonders briefly if he should have just stayed silent and walked away. He wonders if being with Jaskier will be anything like the pain he’s dealt with as it was with Yennefer. Both of those idle thoughts are also indiscriminately answered with ‘no’ as well. </span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier waits for him while he gets Roach settled at the stables near the inn. He’s still lounging on his rock when the Witcher returns, only now he’s lain back staring up at the stars. His eyes glow in the night and they aren’t the only thing. Glowing blue, purple, and red designs stand out among his more human half with dots and twists and curves tracing his skin and following his bone structure that seem almost artistic while the lighter blues and reds along his silken fins glimmer in the darkness as well. Geralt has to hold the pack holding his clothes and bedroll with both hands so that he doesn’t ravish the creature there in the open. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The mer smiles at him, that smile that makes his lungs feel tight, and slips into the water swimming as close to the shoreline as possible to lead Geralt to the land opening of his home. The Witcher slips through the narrow opening to the cave until he walks out into a wide open area. It’s warm within the rocky structure and he stands on a flat, wide area before the beautiful pool of clear blue water illuminated by an opening above that lets in the light of the bright moon. He has his boots off and his bedroll laid out by the time Jaskier’s sunny face emerges from the water and shakes out his hair the now wet strands sticking to the skin they touch. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The mer swims over to the natural platform and braces his arms on the lower part of it next to a ceramic pitcher and a bowl of vials that must be soaps. Smirking up at the white haired man coyly, he speaks in a low voice. “You going to stand there? Or are you going to get that armor off and join me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The brunet watches him get undressed with glossy, half lidded eyes and moves back when the Witcher finally steps down onto the shorter rock formation. He slips into the water finding it much hotter than he’d imagined which is pleasant in his fight sore muscles to say in the least. Once Geralt is settled, he is met with a lap full of mercreature. Slick and smooth scales drag along his already half hard cock in a not at all unpleasant— or accidental— way promoting him to drop his hand to the mer’s lap dragging his finger softly across the longer genital slit in retaliation. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier shivers his full body trembling as he moves his hand up to the larger male’s jaw cupping it so that he can bring him in for a kiss. It’s slick and smooth and their lips slot and slide together easily several short times before they meet again in an open-mouthed kiss. Jaskier’s tongue is slightly tougher than Geralt’s but he uses it well coaxing the larger man’s tongue as deep into his mouth as it can go before sucking on the muscle drawing a grunt from the hunter. Geralt’s tongue catches on a sharp incisor and it stings and he tastes metal for a moment before the mer is letting out a pleased noise, his hand moving through the hunter’s hair to yank him closer as he relishes in the taste. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With both Geralt’s heightened healing and the healing capabilities of mer saliva the knick is gone nearly immediately but that doesn’t change the fact that the creature’s slit twitches beneath his hand releasing slick that is thicker than water. The Witcher carefully prods his middle finger into Jaskier’s warm opening causing the slighter man to gasp against his lips as his hips twitch upwards in hopes of getting more of that finger within him. Geralt shifts his forefinger to drag it along the smaller upper slit as well only for it to brush against the base of the mer’s cock where it had emerged from its hidden place. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The next time the older man pulls back for air he looks down to Jaskier’s lap and his first thought is that the creature’s length is </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretty</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The mer’s dick is indeed out from its slit elegantly curved up towards the sparse hair on his stomach that leads down from his chest. It’s decent sized and will fit in his hand well— though the Witcher isn’t really if there is a different size expectation for mercreatures— and the only difference he can really tell is that there are three little bluish tinted ridges under the flushed, dark pink head of the brunet’s cock. Geralt pulls his finger out of the other male’s slit for a moment to wrap his hand around the length and stroke it making sure to pull the pad of his thumb over the ridges. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier all but trembles in his lap dropping his head to moan into the buffer man’s shoulder so the Witcher takes it as encouragement and does it again twisting his fingers around the ridges and swiping his thumb over the head where it stands above the water. The mer’s hand catches on his, thin nails scratching across the back of his hand slightly. Glowing cornflower eyes meet his and the bard speaks, voice soft and trembling with lust. “Want you inside first, Geralt.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt surges into another biting kiss, the proclamation going straight to his dick. The mer kisses back just as hard, licking into the Witcher’s mouth with fervor. His moan is lost among their lips when the white haired man works two fingers into his slit and searches out all the little spots that make the slighter male mewl into their kisses. Jaskier speaks against his lips between panting kisses a language the Witcher doesn’t know and maybe it’s just babble but it’s more likely that he’s slipped into speaking what he called the ‘language of the water’. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The hunter is three fingers deep into the bard’s slit when he feels the hands in his hair slide down to his neck, the rough scar on one hand dragging across his skin before the hands settle thumbs running over Geralt’s jawline. Jaskier pulls back his lips slick and red from kisses and his luminous sapphire eyes filled with emotion. He strokes his thumb up over the angle of the Witchers jaw pressing down under his ear. “We… my kind, we don’t wear rings and jewelry for the one we love. We bite right here.” He pushes a bit harder and leans down to stroke his tongue over the spot before pressing his lips to Geralt’s ear voice lower, almost a growl. “This is where we show our mate and the Mer mate forever.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt wonders if it’s an offer. He wonders why he’s got warmth in his chest like when he first met Yen before it was replaced by the frigid ice of watching her walk away from him so many times. He wonders why he doesn’t just let Jaskier bite him because surely being connected to Jaskier forever has to be better than watching her leave every time he thinks they’ll be okay. He spreads his fingers within the mer and the creature shivers against him letting a ragged breath wash over his ear. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It would heal over.” Geralt says instead of answering. Maybe he says it to deter the merman, maybe he says it because he can’t tell the bard he wants it for fear of what the svelter man will do. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier’s tongue traces the shell of his ear and he speaks in a bare whisper. “I suppose I’ll have to do it every time then.” He barely finishes the statement before he’s sinking two rows of teeth into the spot he’d pointed out before. Geralt’s breath gets caught in his throat and he pushes up against the mer and involuntarily crooks his fingers causing the mer to clamp down a bit harder before yanking himself away. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt gets a glimpse of the same black filled irises and extra teeth as the day on the riverbank. Jaskier’s ear fins are flared and he sweeps his own tongue over the crimson coating his bottom lip before he can drag the Witcher into another kiss. This is the second kiss of the evening to hold the sharp, metallic tang of the white haired man’s blood and it is just as good, if not better than, the first. When he’s panting against the mer’s lips feeling thoroughly wrecked from the slight friction of the bard’s tail over his cock and the fervor in which the creature in question kisses, Jaskier slides off of his lap causing his eyes to snap open. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The blue eyed male slips to his side shifting through the hot water of the spring and using his hands, still hooked around Geralt’s necks and shoulder, to pull the broader man with him until the Witcher finally shifts straddling that long, powerful tail. The mer smiles up at him and he’s absolutely beautiful like this. His teeth are back to normal and his fins are lax but he can’t quite get his eyes back to normal cornflower blue as the iris is now blown so wide there is only a small ring of luminescent sapphire before his eye goes black again. His hair is half dry but mostly damp, curling at the ends due to the humidity and he’s got spots of color dusted across his slightly scaled cheeks which could be from any number of things but Geralt likes to think it’s the way he’s looking at the bard and twisting his fingers which he knows makes the mer shudder. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Geralt, I believe it’s time to get your cock inside of me.” Jaskier helpfully advises, the fingers clasped on the Witcher’s shoulder dropping to ease the larger ones from his slit  while he uses the hand still braces on the back of Geralt's neck to bring him down into a few nipping kisses. Those short kisses abruptly break off when the creature’s head falls back as he lets out a long low moan nearly the length of time it takes for the hunter to slide his dick into the mer’s slit. “Melitele help me.” Jaskier pants through his mouth lips puffy and red while his pretty pink gills flutter at the sides of his throat. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Being within a mercreature is much different than being inside a man or a woman. Jaskier’s slit is much less soft likely due to the difference in muscle to a human, it’s warm and wet within him but still not as warm as a man or a woman would be considering his blood must run cooler, and Geralt can nearly feel Jaskier sucking him into his right firm walls. He has to pause for a moment and kiss them both breathless again because surely with how much stamina a Witcher has he shouldn’t feel like he’s tottering on the edge already. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, the yellow-eyed man slides nearly out before pushing back in much easier this time rallied by the crooning sound his bard lets out and the quirks of the brunet’s lips against his own. He thrusts slowly until he finds a rhythm that makes Jaskier let out needy noises while tail moves just short of thrashing in pleasure before he begins to speed up his pace. The mer speaks broken English as well as his own language against the hunters lips, his jaw, his throat as he presses open mouthed kisses to them and drags his teeth along the skin. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt must find a good spot again because the bard nearly screams his approval. His claws slide across the hunter’s back leaving trails of stinging, pleasureable heat and his tail lashes out wrapping around one of Geralt’s legs as best as it can with their position. He’s moaning and crooning the Witcher’s name among desperate pleas for release and the white haired male gives mercy panting out Jaskier’s name into the mer’s shoulder as he moves to wrap his fist around the creature’s length. His rhythm is skewed as he treads closer to the edge but he’s determined to make his lover climax first so he pays close attention to the slit and ridges of Jaskier’s cock knowing with the way that the bard is trembling and his fingers are catching against the Witcher’s skin he must be close. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The walls of Jaskier’s slit tighten around his length unexpectedly dragging his climax out of him with such surprise that he clamps his teeth down into the side of the mer’s neck where he’d been in sucking marks into the skin. The mer shouts Geralt’s name as he reaches the edge arching up against the hunter with his release, his own fluids mixing with the larger man’s spend as it pumps into him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he feels he can move again, the white haired man does carefully easing himself out of the larger slit and placing apologetic kisses against the broken skin above fluttering gills. His lips taste like salt and copper bits and Jaskier moves up to lap the taste into his own mouth with a soft and sluggish tongue using his momentum to roll them back over so that he is laying atop the Witcher once again. They lay there in the hot water of the cave’s spring enjoying the feel of each other’s closeness for a while, Geralt’s fingers tracing patterns over the mer’s spine while the other man hums softly against his chest. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Later, when they care to move again the bard will spend far too long washing his Witcher’s hair and the hunter will spend just as long enjoying it. Jaskier will talk in a low voice about the coast and the people who visit him and he’ll drag a barely formed story or two of monsters and swords from his human. Geralt will fall asleep dates and the closest to happy he’s felt in a long while lain on his bedroll with his arm dangling down so his fingers can tangle with his mer’s just above the steaming water. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25944388">Art for "Hooked" by Spoonzi</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/happybluemo/pseuds/happybluemo">happybluemo</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
</div></div></div>
</body>
</html>